She's Expendable
by Nairad
Summary: -DISCONTINUED- Message me if you want this Fanfiction.
1. Pick Up

**Hey, it's the author. Just thought you'd like to know that I will not be describing any existing ;character in The Expendables, considering that if you are reading this, you already know what they look like. I do not own anything other than my OC, Verin (a.k.a Rayne)**

_**Gulf of Aden, Somalia.**_

The cage was cold and damp; the little water there was sloshed from one side to the other in time with the swaying of the boat. The dark lumps that sat in the back of the cage, shivered and huddled together, thoroughly terrified of their captors. One of them, however, stood out from the shaking men. It was a woman, and unlike the others she sat by herself in a corner, legs spread apart and arms resting on them in a position of confidence.

It was this confidence that had caused many bruises and cuts to appear on her olive-toned skin. Her long dark hair was slightly tangled, and was tied back with a few pieces of hair falling on either sides of her face. When the sound of footsteps coming down the metal stairs reached her ears, her eyes flashed up; their forest green depths filled with…anticipation and excitement.

'_So they finally got bored, hmm?_' I thought. I mentally grinned. '_Ross and the others had better get here soon, or they won't get any fun_.' I knew that I was only supposed to prevent the pirates from killing these stupid diplomats, but there was nothing that said I couldn't kill the pirates instead.

One of the pirates grabbed my arm roughly, and pushed me down another flight of stairs into the cargo hold. One of them groped my ass, and I narrowed my eyes in anger. '_I will cheerfully gut you and decapitate you with a fucking spoon when I get untied_.' I thought venomously. Unfortunately I couldn't say my lovely sentiments to his face considering I was gagged, not to mention tied at the wrists.

All of us hostages were lined up, and a video camera was set up to record our untimely deaths. At least, that's what the pirates thought. I heard a slight shuffling coming from the balcony, and grinned, not that anyone could tell because of the damned gag. The gang was here. I turned my attention to the leader of the pirates as he started speaking.

"We have had these men for too long," he said, his dark face expressing anger, and irritation, "Three months!" His expression twisted into a mocking disappointment. "Too, too long." He said shaking his head. "Someone here must pay…now!"

One of the hostages on the floor started whimpering in fear. '_What a pansy…but if I didn't know I would be saved, I would probably be depressed too. I just wouldn't whimper like a girl who just got her fucking Barbie taken away_. '

"Your company had time to pay," the leader said mockingly to us, then turned back to the camera with an expression of disgust on his face. "You do not care about your people…don't want them." The man that had whimpered earlier was dragged to the leader, and he grabbed him by the hair, and raised his machete threateningly.

"We do not care!" He yelled, and his subordinates mimicked him, thinking that it made them seem scarier. To me it just seemed that they were all puppets, not able to think for themselves at all. They were rather pathetic, actually. They all become quiet once more as the leader starts to speak again.

"The blood they bleed," he raised his machete in preparation of cutting down the man cowering on the floor, "is for you!" His downward swing was halted in surprise as, simultaneously, a duffel bag hit the floor and red lasers were pointed at the leader. His underlings were shouting in confusion with their guns raised, but he quickly told them to basically shut up. I silently applauded Ross for a dramatic entrance.

In sick curiosity, the leader slowly raised his hand, and smirked appreciatively as two of the lasers steadily remained in the center of his hand. Then in a sudden movement, he brought his hand to his chest. "Don't shoot me." He said, confidently. '_Please, shoot him_.' I begged in my thoughts, wanting to see that bastard blown away.

"What is that?" He said, gesturing to the bag. "There's your money, release the hostages." Ross was in what I liked to call the 'if-you-don't-do-what-I-want-I-will-blow-you-away' mode. This made his voice sound bored, yet dangerous at the same time. The combination never failed to send shivers down my spine. "How much in there?" The leader asked. I had the sudden urge to tell him that his English was fucking terrible. At least Ross wasn't that- "Three" Ross called out.

I swear, my eye was twitching with annoyance. If I wasn't in this situation, I would've slapped him over the head. "You're too late. We want five million dollars!" I resisted the urge to roll my eyes, if only to not get shot. Because of the fact I was in silence for a month, my sensitive ears could pick up Christmas's extremely sarcastic words. "What d'ya know, a greedy pirate."

I chuckled a bit, and regretted it when one of the pirate lackeys hit me on the head. Stars burst in front of my eyes, and I mentally yelled a string of curses. "Last chance, take it or leave it." Ross said. That only seemed to make the leader even angrier. "We want our money, now!" He yelled, bringing his blade dangerously close to the poor hostage's neck.

I heard a large gun being loaded, and guessed what was going to happen next. "Warning shot!" Gunner yelled. Ross protested, but Gunner had already pulled the trigger. My eyes went wide as the leader's torso hit the wall behind him, with his entrails being flung everywhere in a spray of blood behind his legs. What the hell had Gunner invented? Wait, it was probably Hale. The dark-skinned man had a passion for big guns. I wonder what this one was called. "Little low." Gunner loudly commented.

'_Little low? You blew a man into two fucking pieces! I don't think it matters if the shot was a little low!_' I thought to myself. The pirates panicked and shot at the balcony. Little cans dropped onto the floor and began giving off smoke. '_So they decided to steal from my cache, huh? Dammit, I'll get them for that!_' I thought, my eyes burning with anger.

I had a private stash of various weapons in my apartment, and I didn't appreciate them taking anything without consulting me first. "Lights out." Ross said, and they targeted most of the light switches. The lights all went out and the shooting continued. '_I swear, if I get shot, I'm going to cheerfully murder them._'

Just as I thought that, a bullet tears into my shoulder, and my eyes widen in momentary pain. A rough hand grabs the same shoulder, and drags me towards where I assume the pirates were. The lights flash on again, and the boys were on the ground and hurriedly taking off their night vision goggles. They were in a half circle with Ross in the middle, Christmas and Toll on his left, and Hale and Yang on his right. My anger increases as I recognize the goggles as part of my private arsenal.

'_Dammit, don't they hold any respect for other people's property?_' I ranted to myself some more until I realized that there was a blade pressed to my neck. "I'll kill him; I swear I'll kill him!" A pirate to the left of me yelled. The boys just stared at him with their guns trained on his face.

I could tell that the new leader was getting anxious as he yelled at them to drop their guns. "Fat chance." Christmas said with a smirk. "Yeah that'll happen." Toll added. I snorted in amusement, and instantly regretted it when the pirate that had a hold of me kicked me down to the floor. None of the guys bothered to glance at me. '_It's nice to have friends who care_.' I thought sarcastically.

"Last chance. Let the hostages go, or you're outta there." Ross warned. He holstered his weapon, and the pirate seemed to gain confidence. '_He didn't holster his gun because he's afraid of you, bastard. He holstered it because he doesn't think you're a threat_.' I thought disdainfully. Damn I wish I didn't have this gag on. I could have a running commentary.

"Slide the money here, to me!" The pirate demanded, stomping his foot like an impetuous child. Christmas's eyes narrowed in concentration. "I'll take the four on the left." He said, just loud enough for the pirates to hear. The one holding me visibly jerked in fear. "Why don't you take the two on the right and leave the rest alone." Ross said, a hint of annoyance in his voice.

"I'll kill him, I don't care!" The pirate yelled, he was obviously scared and was trying to hide it behind bravado. '_If you didn't care that you would become a murderer, then you would've killed him a long time ago_.' I thought, ranking the pirate at the bottom of my respect list.

"You should take the two on the right; you're not that fast anymore." Christmas said, completely ignoring the pirate. "The only thing faster is light." Ross bragged, unclipping his holster. "We'll see." Christmas replied, obviously not believing Ross. "Bullets go faster than blades." Ross insisted, the look of amused annoyance on his face.

"Bring the money here, now!" The pirate yelled, angered at the fact they were ignoring him. "You want the money? Go and get it." Ross said reasonably. The tension grew higher and higher until…a cellphone buzzed. What the hell? Ross turned to Christmas, with that very same thought written all over his face. "What's that?" He asked, obviously wanting to hear the answer. "Getting a text." Christmas said, his expression still serious. "Excuse me?" Ross said, probably confused as to why Christmas had a cellphone on him at this time.

The pirate had finally reached his breaking point, and yelling, brought the knife towards the hostage's neck. In less than half a second, Ross and Christmas had shot or knifed the remaining pirates. They relaxed from their tense stances and started walking towards us hostages.

"Eh, call it a tie." Christmas conceded. "Keep dreaming." Ross scoffed. "These guys are arrested development." Toll said, whatever the hell that meant. "A little compassion folks." Hale reprimanded them. Ross and Christmas turned to look at him, then finally stopped in the middle of the dead pirates.

"You know, I don't think you hit one of them." Christmas lied. There were obvious bullet holes in all of the pirates, but Christmas was too prideful to admit it. "I don't see any knives, actually." Ross commented. I had finally gotten rid of my gag and at this point I decided to put in my two cents worth.

"Bastard, that's because I caught one in my fucking shoulder!" I yelled at them. One of Christmas's blades had missed my captor and lodged itself in my already injured shoulder. They all turned to look at me, and Hale whistled. "Damn Rayne, they did a number on you." He said, probably referring to the multiple bruises, cuts, ripped clothing, and wounded shoulder.

"Yeah, yeah, now someone help me the fuck up so I can kick your asses for stealing my stuff. Do you know how long it took me to make those smoke bombs?" Ross shrugged, and untied me, pulling me up so I could stand on my feet. The moment I got my balance, I swung at Christmas with my uninjured left arm, punching him in the jaw.

"That was for hitting me with your damned knife. Practice your aim!" I scolded him. He just rolled his eyes. "How you guys doing?" Gunner called from the balcony. Wait, what the hell is he doing?

"What the hell's he doing?" Ross asked, taking the words right out of my mouth. "Hanging a pirate." Christmas said as if that explained everything. "Don't be ridiculous." Ross said. "You know, that actually makes sense, in a sick and twisted way." I commented, getting 'what the fuck' stares. I just shrugged.

"Gunner. What're you doing?" Ross asked, hoping to get a reasonable answer. "Hanging a pirate." Gunner yelled back, with a grin on his face. I just gave Ross an 'I told you so' look, and left it at that. "That is seriously demented." Toll said, an appalled look on his face. "This is no good." Yang said, I didn't even bother correcting him on his grammar. "You're on your own." Christmas said walking away too. Hale had already left, probably to go start the boat. I just sat on the ground, leaning against his legs and closed my eyes.

"Appreciate it. It's good to have friends." He commented sarcastically. I just smiled. "Gunner." He yelled, catching his attention. "Yeah?" "This isn't how we work. Let him go." Ross said, a hint of regret in his voice.

"Why? He'd do it to us. Right, Rayne?" Gunner reasoned. I just ignored him and snuggled into Ross's leg. He smelled like nothing I'd ever smelled before. It was a scent unique to him, and I liked it. All of a sudden, he was gone, and I had to catch myself from falling

"Let him go, Gunner." I heard Ross say. "Let him go?" Gunner asked, like a child that was unsure of what to do. "Let him go." Ross assured him. I heard a knife being put into its sheath and assumed that Gunner had tried to kick someone's ass again. "Who was it this time?" I yelled up to the balcony. "Yin Yang." I was told. I contemplated that for a moment.

"Dammit, Gunner! You cost me my short nap!"

On our airplane, heading back to our city, 80's rock and roll music was playing in the background. Toll was reading a book called the Survivor's Club, with glasses on the bridge of his nose. Honestly, it made him look twenty years older. Yang's texting on his phone, I wonder who he's talking to. It'd be interesting to find out.

Hale, as usual, is checking his ammunition. Who knows what he's inventing next. I was at the front, sitting on the floor in between Ross and Christmas, drinking a beer. I don't even know what kind because the label was ripped off. Ross was smoking a cigar and flying the plane, and Christmas was fidgeting in his seat, looking back at Gunner.

"If you keep fidgeting like that, I'm going to knock you off your chair. You're making me anxious, dammit!" He just ignores me and looks to Ross. "Think he's cool?" He asked. "Be careful, go." Ross affirmed. Christmas grabs Gunner's knife, and makes his way back. I take a drink, finishing my beer and put it beside me.

Ross glances down, and chuckles softly. "You gotta lay off the booze, Rayne. It's gonna kill you one day." I just scoff; eighteen beers wouldn't even make me tipsy. "If anything's going to kill me, it'll be your grammar." I remember something, and smack Ross on his abs. "What was that for?" He asked. I roll my eyes and reply. "That was for stealing my stuff without asking." I had him two beers, and he looks at me confused.

"It's for when Christmas gets back. A manly toast will do him good." I leave it at that, and leaned my head back against his leg, then drifted asleep.


	2. Home Again

**Hey, it's the author again. I just want to remind you that I will not be describing any characters that were in the last chapter or in the movie, unless it is a necessary part of the story. I am fairly sure that you have watched the movie, so don't complain because you already know what the original characters look like. Any new characters will be properly described and introduced. Just so you know. If you have any issues with the story, the review button is currently available for clicking. WARNING: This story is rated M, and I intend to completely use the rating to the limit. You have been warned.**

Warm water ran down my body, the individual drops running together in a stream and tracing my body. I stretched my leg out in front of me, my fingertips just reaching my toes. It was clean and smooth, no scars, nothing except for my healing shoulder wound and a crescent tattoo around my naval. Drawing my hands up my leg, they ghosted over my slim hips to my lower abs. Tight and firm, they were a testament to the training I did in order to survive. I glided my hands over my breasts, mentally noting the faint tan lines, and caressed up my neck. Burrowing my fingers in my hair, I drew them down and let the water run through the chocolate brown strands.

My house phone rang, one of those annoying tones that instantly made me close my eyes in irritation. I reached around the curtain to grab the phone off of my sink counter. Leaning against the shower wall farthest from the pouring water, I pressed the 'talk' button and held the phone up to my right ear.

"Hey, Ross." I said in a laid back tone.

"You know, if you keep answering the phone when you're in the shower, you'll end up-"

"Shocking my ass, I know. So whacha need?" I interrupted.

"Finally gave up on grammar, Rayne?" I narrowed my eyes, that wasn't Ross's voice.

"The hell I did, Tool, I just decided that it was useless around you guys." I retorted. In the week we had been back, the guys had purposefully used horrible grammar just to spite me. I had given up trying to correct them yesterday as I couldn't take it anymore.

"So how're your injuries? Are they healed yet?" Ross asked.

"My right shoulder won't be fully healed for a month, but I'm off the sling and able to use it if I need to. All my bruises and scratches are gone. All in all, I can fight just fine, that's the joy about being ambidextrous." I paused a moment, an idea forming in my mind.

"We've got another r job, don't we?" I asked, my heart sinking. I liked my job, being badass and all was fun, but I had wanted a chance to unwind after the pirate incident.

"How'd you guess?" Tool asked. My heart sank even more.

"Because you and Ross wouldn't call just to ask me how well I'm healing." I said in a monotone. 'I wish they would though. It's not like I have anyone else.' I frowned at the thought. Mentally slapping myself, I got back on topic.

"So what's the job?" I asked, forcing myself to be enthusiastic. I didn't want to cause drama, mainly because I hate being emotional. It makes me feel weak.

"Ross is gonna check it out tomorrow. Wanna go?" Tool asked.

I thought it over for a moment. Go, and potentially become a hormone induced idiot? Don't go and remain emotionally stable? Go, and listen to a potential asshole, and bite his head off verbally? Stay, and remain a calm, non-violent person?

"What time?" I asked grinning to myself.

"Noon, tomorrow. Barney'll meet you at your house at ten."

"Classical noon, huh? See you Ross, Tool." I hung up and set the phone back on its hook. I turned the water off, and stepped out of the shower stall. Grabbing a towel, I dried off then dropped it to the floor. I wiped off the fogged mirror, and looked at my face. My face was an oval shape with my chin adding a soft point. My almond shaped eyes were not too close together or too far apart, and my nose was straight and slightly turned down at the end, though not enough to notice automatically. My lips had close points on the top and were slightly longer on the right side because I had a tendency to smirk. Although I was only twenty eight, only ten years younger than Ross, my forest green eyes held the same look Ross's did. It was a look like we knew too much for our age. Mine was one of those faces that only needed make up to enhance my features. All in all, I knew I was very pretty, but I never let it go to my head.

Turning from my reflection, I opened the door connected to my bedroom, and let the steam out. I never turned my fan on in the bathroom, my parents always told me it would ruin the wooden floors and cause mold, but I like the extra heat. Grabbing a hair tie from the counter, I tied my hair in a low pony-tail and exited the bathroom.

I went to the wooden doors of my small closet, and opened them with a flourish. I pulled on sapphire satin underwear, the color complementing my olive skin. 'I don't know why I wear this shit. It's not like I have anyone to wear it for.' A nagging feeling told me I wore it for the possibility of having someone to wear it for. 'Enough with this philosophical bullshit.'

I exited my bedroom wearing a cropped black tank top that revealed my tattoo and baggy army-style cargo pants with a thick leather studded belt. The tank top had a soft quality to it that you could only get by wearing something for a very long time, and my cargo pants was threadbare in the knees and had small holes where the belt loops were precariously attached, showing a little of my colorful boy shorts. Running my hand through my hair, I poured myself coffee and shifted through my mail. 'Junk. Junk. Notice for overdue library books. Junk.' Sighing, I ran my fingers through my hair again. I went back to my room, and picked up the four overdue books, looking over the titles. They were all fiction, the only genre I liked to read. Toll always insisted that I should read motivational non-fiction, but I hated reading that shit, it's so boring. 'I didn't even get to fucking these. Damn pirates.' I thought venomously. On my way out of my house, I shoved my feet into leather combat boots and grabbed my leather riding jacket off of a hook by the front door.

I lived in a small house, under a fake name to keep any enemies I made on the job away. It had been up for three years and the owners had been desperate to sell it, so I got off pretty cheap. It was located in a suburban area of L.A, about ten miles from Tool's shop, and the traffic wasn't that bad compared to the inner city. The neighboring houses were modern-looking, concrete sided, metal roofed houses, but mine was more old-style which was exactly what I had been looking for when I bought it. From the outside the house appeared to be made of river stones and the roof was made of asphalt tiles. The driveway was cracked concrete with a few weeds struggling to survive in the spaces. The window frames were ebony wood that, surprisingly enough, hadn't rotted from the L.A humidity. Attached to the house, next to the driveway, was a shed that was completely mismatched to the apparent theme. The walls were concrete slabs, the roof and the small double doors were metal. The door handles were wrapped in thick iron chains with a heavy duty padlock holding the ends together.

Walking to the shed, I set down my library books, pulled a key from my pants pocket and unlocked the large padlock. As soon as the padlock fell to the ground I yanked open the metal doors.

The two o'clock sunlight shone brightly inside the shed, revealing my treasured motorcycle. It was a Bourget 2008 Viper 2 model, and it was my pride and joy. The wheels had chrome detailing, made to look like flashing daggers and I kept them highly polished. The seat was padded black leather with blue flames stitched in a pattern that spelled out my two initials, R.C for Rayne Clowe. The paint job was custom, with an evening blue background that faded to a medium blue at the back. Black flames with electric blue accents twisted their way to the tail lights, and a skull with a raven and 'Expendable' written below it was airbrushed on the gas tank cover. The skull I had done myself, with skills I had gained from helping out at auto shops.

I picked my books back up, and walked to the back end of my bike. A leather bag was attached behind the seat, and if I removed it, my bike could carry two people. I unzipped the main pocket, placing my books among spare lights, several kinds of wrenches, spare gas, and a pair of leather riding gloves. I took out the gloves, pulling them on, and then zipped the bag closed. I grabbed my black full-face helmet from a small shelf that I made specifically for it and put it on. I swung my leg over my bike's seat, and grabbed the handle bars. I flicked the kill switch on, inserted my key, and turned the ignition on, listening to the bike's dull roar. I watched all my gauges pin themselves and return to zero, then pressed the start button.

Waiting a little for the engine to warm up, I pulled my cellphone out of my coat pocket and checked the screen. There was a missed call from the library, as was expected, and a missed call from an unknown number. The person had left a voicemail, so I dialed it and listened. Almost immediately I pulled it away and pressed the delete button. 'Damn fucking woman, calling the wrong fucking number to yell at her bitch of a mother, dammit!' I continued to mutter curses as I flipped the kickstand up, pulled the clutch lever, pressed the shifter down to first gear, released the clutch slowly, and felt the motorcycle move forward. I didn't bother closing the shed doors, the only things that had been in there were my bike and my helmet. Leaning back, I put my feet on the foot pegs, and twisted the throttle.

I was done with the library, the damn fine had been almost seventy bucks because I had been gone for four months, including the month I spent recuperating because of my shoulder. '60 cents a day, damn library's trying to swindle me, I swear.' I thought to myself, pushing out of the glass doors with two new books tucked under my right arm, and my helmet under my left. As I walked, I noticed a bunch of gothic wannabe rockers crowded around my bike. 'Goddammit, not again!' I mentally groaned to myself. 'God help them if they don't listen to me the first time.'

I zipped my pockets closed so nothing would fall out if this became ugly. I pushed my way between two twenty-year-old punks with neon Mohawks and too many face-piercings, only to see something horrifying. Another twenty-year-old punk with a neon pink Mohawk, but this one was wearing a completely leather_ studded_ outfit and leaning _backwards _on _my bike_. Narrowing my eyes, clenching my fists, and scowling, I was absolutely furious.

"I would suggest, for your sake, that you get off my bike and make sure you don't leave scratches behind." I said, my voice calm and ice cold. The rocker opened his eyes and when he saw me, his smirk grew into a shit eating grin.

"Hey hot stuff, I know I'm sexy but damn, stare any harder and I might burn." He said, trying and failing to come off as suave and sexy. To me, he just sounded arrogant and juvenile. Glaring at him, I put my books in the seat bag and calmly set my helmet down. If anything, his grin got bigger. Walking alongside my bike, I trailed my fingers up his leg, past his hips and stopped at his belt loops. Curling my fingers around it, I gently bit my lip and gave him a seductive look, tugging slightly on the belt loop. He sat up slow and got off my bike, obviously thinking he was going to get 'lucky'.

Less than five minutes later, I rode out of the parking lot. Nobody noticed the group of unconscious rockers until half an hour later. It was determined they were all beaten, but nobody was ever accused.


End file.
